


Just A Pair Of Larks At The Edge Of The World.

by MossWithFingersForTappyTap



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, Angst, Drug Use, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-14 05:11:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2179191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MossWithFingersForTappyTap/pseuds/MossWithFingersForTappyTap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who else is awake to see the sun clear the skyline every single morning without fail? Usually Dean spends the hours from when his eyes open and refuse to close again, until everyone else wakes up completely alone. Not this morning. When he wakes up in the thrown together village in the midst of an apocalypse, Dean has company, and he will discover another side to his surly other self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Daybreak.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first fan fic. Sorry its a bit sad. I'm probably stretching cannon a ton to get the story to work, as details about the endverse were quite vague. Also there are only two characters in this for the first bit, and they are both Dean, so bear with me, and sorry if it gets a bit confusing.

 

Dean woke up on a couch early in the morning, and it took him a moment to realize where he was. A little thrown together red shack in the middle of the woods, 5 years in the future. Across the room an empty bed surrounded by beer cans told him the older Marty McFly was already awake. Hell, Dean doubted he even fell asleep. He got up reluctantly and looked around for where he'd tossed his belt and shoes. He wondered if the other dean would notice if he took one of his clean shirts. There was a broken dresser across the room, and it was full of identical copies of all the clothing he wore. Shirts were the third drawer down, and he found the clean version of what he was already wearing after a moment of rifling.

 

“And there will be none the wiser.” He said out loud, laughing as he made the switch. He grabbed a belt from the top of the dresser as well, feeling to lazy to search the messy room.

 

Day number two. Zachariah said he needed to spend three days in this hell hole, because he needed to see the consequences of his actions, or something. He needed to see that they were right, no matter how much torture that would take, and the plots to make him agree were getting steadily more disorienting. Dean wondered if he'd end up aging faster than everyone around him from all the extra days he kept being forced to live. He got up, shrugged on a coat and stepped outside.

 

The sun was just peeking out over the horizon, casting a dim light over the little town. The air was cool, and heavy with mist. It seemed that no one else was awake, and aside from the clatter of morning birds everything was quiet. Dean took a second to enjoy the moment, and stretch the pain from sleeping on the old couch out of his back. He then wondered where he would find coffee in a post apocalyptic dystopia. Older him would probably know, wherever he was. He strolled along the mud road towards Cas' cabin, which housed the nearest water fountain. He could still feel the sleepless night in his eyes, but was accustomed to restless sleep, and knew a splash of water would bring him back to normal.

 

He wondered if this would be the worst angel induced alternate universe trip he'd ever take. His future self was a douche, Sam was dead, and Bobby was dead. Cas, was hilarious, but it just wasn't him. The camp they'd set up was miserable and falling apart, its population was decreasing by the day. Oh, and the Zombies weren't a bonus. He'd take soy latte office him any day. At least Sam was there for that one.

 

Dean climbed the steps up to the porch where the tap stood, filled his palms with cool water and threw it over his face. There were a few dirty looking tin cups next to the fountain, so he washed one out, and filled it. Dean sat on the steps with his cup, and tried his best to believe it was filled with fresh hot coffee, black, strong, two sugars. It wasn't working. It was cold, slightly green, and it tasted like sulphur. He was about to return to his own shack for something better tasting when he he heard a noise that made him stop. It was quiet, but someone was definitely sobbing inside the cabin.

 

“Cas? Are - are you all right?” The noise stopped, but there was no answer. A feeling of foreboding washed over Dean. No one was usually up as early as him unless something was really wrong.

 

“Cas? Are you in there? Are you hurt, or something?” Dean knocked on the frame of the doorway. But there was still no answer, although something inside shuffled. He tentatively pushed aside the beaded curtain that hung over the doorway, pausing to cringe at the thought of dealing with an over-emotional hippy-daisy Castiel at Four in the morning before coffee, and entered.

 

It wasn't Cas.

 

Dean, the other Dean, was siting against the far wall with his knees to his chest, and his face buried in crossed arms. He was shaking, and didn't seem to register that someone else had entered the room. After a quick glance around he discovered the source of his distress. In the middle of the floor, on a complex ornamental rug there lay the angel Castiel, motionless.

 

It took Dean a second to realize what he was looking at. He seemed as if he could've been sleeping. With one hand on his chest and the other outstretched, he looked rather content. Normal even, if he wasn't so very, very still.

 

“Oh my god, Cas-” Dean went numb with horror and the cup fell from his fingers. It clattered on the floor and water soaked into the rug. For a moment he couldn't even move, but he forced himself to walk forward. He collapsed on the carpet next to Cas, and shook him.

 

“Cas! Hey, can you hear me?” There was no response.

 

“Castiel!” He shook harder, panic setting in.

 

“Hey, wake up man, come on!” But he lay still. Dean felt desperately for any vital signs. He put his whole hand on his throat for a pulse, and listened for any breathing for what felt like ages, but it was no use. He sat back on his heels. From up close Dean could see the faintest ashy wings traced into the rug from when the small part of Cas that was still an angel was extinguished. He was gone, and both Deans felt the silence.

 

 _This isn't Cas._ He reminded himself over and over again. _Not your Cas anyway._ He stared at the broken thing before him. It was still wearing the same stupid shirt from last night. _Not your Cas..._ Suddenly he couldn't hold back tears, they came the way they sometimes slip out when he was completely alone and coudn't be tough anymore. The older dean finally looked up, and the mirror of pain on his face felt like a bullet. They sat in the shock for a long while, not knowing what to say or what to feel.

 

“He was the last one..” said older Dean, finally. His voice was barely more than a whisper, but through the hush of the morning it was heard clear from across the room. “I lost Sammy-” the shock of saying his name cut the word short “and I couldn't save Bobby...” He collapsed back into his arms, and began to sob again.

 

“Hey, hey...” The smaller dean crossed the room to comfort his bigger self.

 

“It's just...” He looked up again, and his face was wet and blotchy. “I have no one else to look up to now... I mean I know he wasn't much near the end and I... kinda saw this coming” He paused and swallowed hard, his voice returned as a whimper “I just... need him... I really need him... I need someone stronger than myself. I can't be...” He trailed off. It was so rare for either of them to voice anything, and the words came disjointed and awkward.

 

But the smaller Dean, who understood the bigger Dean more than anyone else ever could, but who couldn't find any words that would possibly soothe him, took him in his arms and hugged him tight. He hugged him harder than he had ever hugged a crying, panicked, little Sammy. He hugged him the way he always wished his father had hugged him when he was still a scared and sad little kid not used to the weight of the world. The way he needed to be hugged all those times he was up all night with a bottle while Sammy slept in the next bed over, because they weren't safe, but Sam needed to feel as if they were. And the bigger dean, who'd seen so much more, collapsed. He broke completely, and the sobs came over and over again. They held each other while Cas' body slept, and eventually the sobs became heavy difficult breathing, and the older Dean, having let it all out, let go.

 

“Come on” said the younger Dean, helping the older Dean up. They walked out of the beaded curtain door into the dawn air. The big Dean sat on the porch next to the water fountain and the small Dean washed another cup, not wanting to go back in and retrieve the old one. He filled it up and handed it to big Dean, who laughed despite himself.

 

“What? Its for your throat. Thats got to be sandpaper by now.”

 

“No, man, you can't drink this stuff, it's washing only now. We really should take down the drinking water sign.”

 

“Crap.”

 

“You didn't.”

 

“Ugh.” Said younger Dean spitting to clean his mouth. Older Dean giggled weakly at him, and the sound was a relief.

 

“Your gonna have fun tomorrow.” He said dampening his shirt and wiping it on his face.

 

“Shut up.” Said the younger Dean, glad to have made him smile. A thick mist was gathering in the trees, and even tough the shock still felt like a pit in his stomach, the morning felt even fresher somehow. Although enough time had passed that the sun was illuminating the town in full, it would still be hours before they saw anyone else, and so the Deans, who normally spent these quiet hours lonely, sat together.

 

“So, can I ask what happened?” Ventured small Dean. The trace smile still fading on big Deans face was extinguished. He immediately regretted asking, upset at having reminded him of the situation. Older Dean cast a painful glance at the beaded doorway. It didn't to a very good job concealing what was inside, and he looked as if he was going to be sick, but he took a deep breath, summoning whatever strength he had left, and started to explain.

 

“Uum, yeah, These fuckin' things,” he pulled out a small orange pill bottle from his coat pocket “ We ah... We found a truck load of them when we first set up here. We were keeping them with all the other medicine. I Don't know why. I mean I don't even know what they're used for...” He was on the verge of tears again.

 

“And he... He started losing his Power pretty much as soon as this whole thing started. They were just trickling away slowly like he was shutting down or something. He had a hard time coping with it and he started getting depressed and angry, but he was basically just on our level, and I could deal with that. But then he started getting weird...” He had to pause a moment.

 

“I caught him smoking weed about, oh I don't know, a year in. I mean, thats not much to worry about in terms of an angsty depressed teenager but it's, it's... him. I mean he's literally an angel. I think once he had a taste of the dark side he just couldn't stop, and within a few years he was on everything. I had tried everything. It was the only thing making him happy because... we failed him.” Fresh tears were coming down now, but he insisted on pushing on. His hands were shaking so much he had to put the bottle down.

 

“I caught him in the medicine shed downing these things things by the bottle. He had such a high tolerance level back then it took three whole bottles to even give him a buzz. He didn't stop with these ones. I think he was at the point where his Angel powers couldn't stop him from getting addicted, and he just wasted away... His tolerance levels were decreasing every day, and he was probably guessing every fix how much to take... it was only a matter of time really...” They sat in silence for awhile. The crumbled wall that the older Dean hid behind could no longer do anything to mask his emotions and tears were streaming down his face, dropping off his chin, and into his lap..

 

Eventually he got up to wash them off with a good handful of water, and when he came back he was angry. He snatched the bottle from the porch and ripped the cap of. Younger Dean heard the snap of the plastic safety lock being broken. He poured them out off the porch into a muddy puddle.

 

“THESE FUCKIN' THINGS!” He screamed, jumping down onto them. He kicked the water frantically until his legs hurt and the mud had splashed up and covered his pants to his knees. Younger Dean sat awkwardly but patiently for him to be done, this reflection of himself familiar, but terrifying from the outside. He secretly hoped no one was woken up by all the commotion. The older Dean he gave a final scream, threw the bottle down, and stepped on it. It was flattened. He stood there, up to his ankles in muddy filth, fists clenched, as the sudden rage left his body. The frustrated tears were still uncontrollable, they streamed down in waves with every painful breath. Eventually he hoisted himself back up onto the porch, his lower half heavy with mud, and half crawled to the water fountain to wash it all away. He doused his face with wave after wave of cold water to stop the tears, then slumped onto the floor with a wet splat, exhausted.

 

The smaller Dean who had not said a word through the whole thing, and who was decidedly uncomfortable, had curled his knees up to his chest subconsciously. The two made eye contact for the first time since the day began, and seeing himself so broken and so weak felt like a knife through his heart.

 

“I need new pants,” said the older Dean quietly, smearing the mud around with his finger. “And a drink.”

 

“Sure,” said the younger Dean, surprised to hear himself speak after so long. He got up, and helped the bigger version of himself to his feet for the second time, and the two of them left the porch, and walked back their own shack in silence.

 

 

 


	2. The Walk.

The inside of the house was dark compared to the now bright morning. He found a light switch and flicked it. Nothing happened.

 

“Doesn't work” Said the other Dean, who was familiar with his own home, and had made his way across the filthy room in the dark to find a new pair of pants. From the doorway he could hear shuffling in the shadows, then the clink of glass as something was poured out. He returned to the light with a fresh new outfit and two full glasses of whiskey. Smaller Dean was a little embarrassed that he had just changed in front of him, even when they were the same person.

 

“Quick question: When do people start moving usually?” he asked.

 

“Oh I don't know, around 7:00 I guess. Everyone is up by 8:00.”

 

“I guess some things never change.” Older Dean gave a weary smile of agreement, and downed a massive gulp of whiskey.

 

Their shack didn't have much of a porch to sit on so they ended up walking around the camp, in any direction but Cas' cabin. Not all the paths where made of mud, there were a few gravel roads from when the area was used as a camp ground.

 

“So... can I ask what happened between you too?” asked younger Dean, a bit afraid to upset older Dean again, but needing to break the silence “I mean, the way you talked to each other yesterday, I get the feeling you were not overly cozy”

 

Bigger dean swirled his drink around, pondering the question.

 

“Ya, we.. kinda had a fall out awhile back...” He replied, not venturing further towards an answer. The other Dean got the idea, and the silence was a mutual agreement.

 

The deans strolled along one of the paths that wound into the forest. They set there glasses on the edge of the road, they could pick them up again on the way back, or maybe they’d just be found and claimed by someone else.

 

The declining population of the camp was mostly huddled tightly around the entrance where the cabins stood, an area that was only about half a square mile, but the full extent of the grounds cut forever into the forest. Before the world collapsed camp Chitaqua had been a popular destination for not only those who preferred the comfort of the cabins, but hikers and backpackers.

 

When Dean and Sam were kids their dad sometimes assigned Bobby to take them on weekend trips through the park, thinking the deep woods the perfect place to practice survival skills. He sent Dean off with a shot gun so he could practice where no one could here the rounds. Of course Bobby almost never did any of that with them, and Dean looked forward to the trips as a time to hang up his weapons. Weekends full of late nights around a campfire, roasting marshmallows, fishing, and the infamous hiking trips. They only did the easiest trails, but Dean used to complain when he was forced to carry the large thermos of orange juice for tiny three year old Sammy who got thirsty and needed a break every five minutes. A five mile hike took them all day at a very slow pace, as Sam stopped to look at, and comment on virtually everything. Bobby could have easily carried him on his shoulders, he was young and strong back then, but he always insisted on dawdling along behind everyone to a seven year old Dean's dismay. He remembered the very last time dean spent a night at the park. The day their dad came to get them early and found Dean and Bobby stargazing on a blanket, while Sam slept comfortably in one of the cabins. There was a lot of yelling and then his dad finally agreed to come back in the morning, as tearing a three year old child from his bed only to drive all night would have been cruel. Dean barely slept that night.

 

The campground looked radically different from back then. Any roads that weren't pounded to mud by the frantic activity of the refugees were overgrown with bushes, and saplings, and all the hiking trails had been completely reclaimed by the forest. The two of them didn't mind ducking under branches and weaving through the young underbrush if it meant escaping the town for a moment. While the younger Deans thoughts were filled with nostalgia, he was sure his older selfs were clouded with pain. He had his hands buried in the pockets of his coat, and aside from moments where he had to duck under low branches he kept his head down and watched his feet. It was clear he was done talking, and younger Dean felt no need to break the silence.

 

***

 

The bigger Dean let his smaller self lead the way trough the maze of thickets. He had seen all of this coming for a while now, and he told himself that he shouldn't be so stricken by the situation, but he still felt the shock like a stone in his gut. He kept his feet moving, and breathed slowly, hoping the feeling would fade away.

 

They'd had a fight the night before, him and Cas. In the end they barely spoke if there wasn't other people around anymore, and in the event one of them opened their mouth when they were alone, it always turned into a screaming match. Usually Cas was not the kind of person to yell, he took on absolutely everything with calm attitude and a (perhaps sarcastic) smile, but when it came to Dean he'd start shouting, and he wouldn't stop until either his voice became raspy and gave out, or Dean walked away. The night before Dean had left him in fit of curses in the middle of the street outside his shack. Cas had come to tell him something. He remembered slamming the door and sinking to floor before realizing the younger Dean was asleep on the couch in front of him. Thankfully the man was still able to fall fast asleep at least for a while and had not been awakened by the scene. He had slumped into his bed angry, resisting the urge to get up and confront Cas again. He wanted to let it all out, even if it had to end in a fist fight. Instead he fell asleep in his jeans and when he woke up an hour later, that was it.

 

He felt like kicking things again, but his feet were sore, and their was nothing satisfyingly kickable in the path, so he picked up his pace to catch up to the other man, who was getting to be a distance ahead of him. They seemed to be headed in a random direction but younger Dean had the sudden focus of someone with a destination in mind.

 

***

 

"Is this it?" Said a memory of Castiel in the back of his mind. They were standing at the entrance of the camp for the first time. He was still awkwardly clad in a trench coat, oblivious to his backwards tie. Dean decided in that moment that this was the perfect way to remember the man. And he smiled briefly at the image before replying to the ghost.

 

"Yup, we made it." The two of them stood staring through the entrance way. After a frantic call from Bobby about the end of the word they had driven all night to the location, if not just to see if the man was insane or not. The town was much cleaner back then, excluding the weeds seeping out from under the buildings. The owners of the camp had run into financial issues and shut the place down years ago. It stood abandoned and ready to be adopted by any psychos looking to escape society. There were already quite a few people there at the time. Perhaps they weren't the only people who felt the end coming and decided to bunker down, or perhaps Bobby had more friends than they thought.

 

"We should look for Sam" he said, but Cas' sorrowed expression told him there was no use.

 

"I'm sorry Dean, he's not here, although he is alive." Cas sounded doubtful, but the words gave him hope all the same.

 

"Is there no way we can un-ward him and have you hone in on his location?" Asked Dean, partially joking.

 

"Dean we've talked about this, even if that were possible Lucifer would-"

 

"Ya, I get the picture."

 

"We'll just have to wait it out. Wherever he is, he knows where we are now, I am certain he will arrive when he can, and he can pray to me at anytime if he's stuck somewhere"

 

"Ya, if he even wants to." He grumbled. Cas answered this with a sympathetic smile.

 

At that moment Chuck arrived with a clip board and whisked them into their new day in day out life at the camp.

 

***

 

Dean was so lost in the day dream that he almost walked straight into the forest when the path curved suddenly. But he was soon transfixed again.

 

***

 

"Nice place." He said to Cas involuntarily. Now they where dropping their bags off in the entranceway of their new home. Behind them Chuck was scribbling something down on his clip board.

 

"Alright guys." He piped up "This place has two bedrooms, so you two can easily share this one. Of course if more people end up coming we'll move them in as well, naturally. Lots of space. They can just... sleep on the floor or something... We're trying to keep family and friends together so in the chance Sam shows up..." he glanced at Dean apologetically.

 

"He'll show up." said Dean, his tone a bit more threatening than intended. Chuck laughed nervously.

 

"Of course... Heh heh... He'll be staying here too then." He stuttered. "The only working drinking fountain is on your porch, so there will be some traffic, and also... There's no door. Watch for squirrels."

 

"Will do." said Dean, suddenly fed up. He began ushering Chuck out.

 

"Ok, I will leave you to your business then... Tell me if you need anything... I'll see you around." He stammered over his shoulder. Dean would have slammed the door dramatically behind him, but there was indeed nothing but a frame, so he left it to Chuck to keep walking.

 

"Chuck forgot I don't need a bed." Remarked Cas. "I don't sleep." And Dean had laughed.

 

***

 

Dean snapped out of his day dream and noticed that he'd slowed his pace again. Young him was now waiting patiently for him to catch up at a fork in the road. When he finally caught up he was given a courteous smile, and then they continued in a new direction, smaller dean held the same level of determination.

 

_Where are you taking me?_ Wondered bigger Dean. The new path sloped daringly, and there didn't seem to be much of a road. Where there had been traces of gravel to mark the path before, now there was only the lack of anything but juvenile trees to indicate a direction. He wanted to ask his smaller self if he knew where the hell they were going be he was busy springing down the slope. Bigger Dean's sore feet wouldn't let him catch up, and he found himself slipping down, grabbing the saplings around him for balance. Clay built up on his shoes until they where heavy, when he made it to the bottom they were bricks. His younger self was waiting, laughing.

 

"What the fuck was that?" He stammered, kicking the nearest full sized tree to remove the clay from his feet.

 

"A short cut?" Smaller him chuckled.

 

"Where are you taking me? I-" He tried to ask, but there was apparently a sudden rush to be somewhere, and the other him was already walking away. He could feel the smirk of forced mystery on his face through the back of his head. _He couldn't possibly have some secret spot could he?_ That didn't seem actually possible, as they shared all of their secret spots.

 

They were on a gravel road, much like the other one, but the surrounding woods felt deep and unfamiliar. Dean slunk along behind his smaller self, who was already forever ahead.

 

*******

 

"Dean!" In his mind he was being shaken awake. He opened his eyes and Cas was silhouetted in the moonlight from his window.

 

"What time is it?" he murmured.

 

"Dean, it's Sam!" Dean jolted awake, and reached for the light. It snapped on with a buzz and illuminated the panic on Cas' face.

 

"What about him? Is he here?" It had to be one or two o'clock in the morning. There was no way Sam could have shown up. There was no way he was here. His heart began to race. Something was very wrong.

 

"Sam, he...” Cas gulped, and sat down at the foot of Deans bed. “He said yes, Dean."

 

" W- What?" Dean stammered.

 

"Just now. I felt it."

 

"What!?"

 

"I'm so sorry, Dean"

 

"Why would he?... Cas... Why?" He asked, but Cas was just as confused as he was.

 

"I don't know why, but do you know what this means?” Dean did know. He knew all too well.

 

“It's the apocalypse, Dean. It's happening." Cas looked terrified. Dean grabbed his boots from under the bed and forced them on.

 

"We have to warn the others then." He jumped out of bed and ran out the room.

 

"Dean!" Cas called after him.

 

"What?" He spun around.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

One of the shacks conveniently had a cellar, and the entire makeshift town was soon herded into the ground. Two hundred people barely fit in cramped space, and the air grow thin and warm. The crowd was panicked and silent, aside from a few people who couldn't help but cry. Their sobs were heard by everyone. No one knew how it would end. They expected pain and suffering, but hoped that it would be quick. Perhaps the world would just explode, like it did in movies.

 

That was the first time they had put Dean in charge. No one else held it together the way he did. He was only a newcomer in the middle of a tragedy, yet he wore the mask expertly. He did not cry. He did not fear. He simply directed everyone to where they were the needed to be, and kept everyone as calm as possible.

 

There was no place for Cas in all the mess. He didn't need help, and he couldn't give help, so he just stayed out of the way and watched Dean tick all night. Dean could feel his worried stare through the whole event, but he was not worried about the end of the world, or the well being of any of the people in the bunker. If he were to be perfectly honest with himself, he was probably only worried about Dean.

 

Eventually the sun rose, and they emerged to the perfectly intact and normal world they had hidden from. Only to discover months later that the Croatian virus had broken out, but they were able to protect themselves form this. They were given time, because Lucifer didn't want them to go out in a blaze of glory, no, that would be too easy. He wanted to play with them, and he knew how time could break even the strongest of hearts. They built barriers and they rounded up ammunition. They made plans, organized missions to keep the Croats as far away as possible, and they managed for a while. They were safe. Cas was not.

 

***

 

"Hey, wait up!" he shouted. Younger Dean did just such, spinning on his heel he stopped in the middle of the trail.

 

"You alright?" he shouted back.

 

"No. Why would I be alright?" He huffed as soon as he was close enough. He'd been wearing that mask ever since the night Sam was taken. It didn't fit properly anymore, and he couldn't bring himself to put it back on.

 

"I just meant..."

 

"My feet hurt, ok?” he admitted.“I'm tired. I've been up all night. Where are we going?"

 

"Say no more." Replied the smaller Dean, sitting down in the middle of the trail.

 

"Where are we going?" He asked again. He felt like a little kid.

 

"It's a surprise." Younger him replied.

 

"That's not possible, I know everything about you."

 

"Are you sure? Then where are we going?" Asked younger Dean with a smirk. Older Dean groaned and sat down. He finally understood what Sam had simply referred to as "the annoying face."

 

"I'm not really in the mood for this" He grumbled. He'd been thinking about himself for too long, and suddenly he wanted to be back at the camp. The group needed him there when they woke up. He imagined the panic that would ensue if they woke up with him nowhere to be seen. What if they found Cas...

 

***

"Cas?" Suddenly he was in his mind again, standing in the living room of their cabin shouting the man's name. It was the day he disappeared for the first time.

 

With his new responsibilities he hadn't seen much of the man in a while anyway. Cas had his own set of duties to fulfil, he healed the injured, and he was the most effective way of exterminating those who'd been infected by the virus. Dean also incorporated him in most of the missions they went on, and that had been the case that morning. The squadron waited for him a bit, but they were forced to leave eventually, with or without him. Thorough the mission Dean found himself too distracted and worried to shoot straight, so he made his way back to the camp alone.

 

“Cas?” he yelled again tearing up the cabin. He found the angel in the room that usually stood empty, lying on the bed.

 

“Hey! Cas!” Dean shook him, and his eyes fluttered open.

 

"Dean?" He mumbled, confused, “What are you- Where am I?”

 

"What are you doing, Cas?" Pressured Dean. Cas squinted at the question.

 

“ I'm, um... I don't know- I...” He spluttered. “Whats going on?”

 

"You were asleep, Cas."Dean explained. The notion hit him like a punch.

 

"Oh." Panic crossed his face. "I..."

 

"Why were you asleep? HOW where you asleep?"

 

"I think something might be very wrong with me" Cas' voice was barely a whisper.

 

"YOU THINK? Why didn't you say something earlier?"

 

"You were busy...” He tried to sit up, but he gasped, and fell back, whimpering. “My stomach... it...”

 

"We need to get you some help." Said Dean, offering him a hand to bring him to his feet. Cas grabbed it but only managed to roll off the mattress, and fall to the floor with a grunt.

 

“Come on, you.” Dean Urged, grabbing Cas under the armpits. “Don't you make me carry you.” Cas managed to stand, but he was unstable and he almost collapsed. Dean walked him out of the room with one of his arms around his neck for support, then the smell hit him.

 

"God! You stink!" He exclaimed. Cas groaned either out of embarrassment, or pain, or both. Dean only managed to get him to the living room and set him down on the couch. "Jesus, what's wrong with you?"

 

“My grace it's been... draining...” Cas explained through gritted teeth.

 

“Since when?”

 

“I don't know.” Cas grumbled “Since Sam... I think...”

 

“What? Since Sam said yes?” Asked Dean, Cas nodded. “That was months ago! Why didn't you say anything?! How are you even alive!?”

 

"It started slowly... It wasn't a problem until recently, and I... I've been stealing crackers," He moaned, "I'm so hungry..."

 

"CASTIEL YOU CAN NOT LIVE ON CRACKERS!" Dean shouted. Cas only grunted again in reply. Outside a woman was walking onto the porch carrying a jug for water.

 

"Hey, you!" Dean called running over to the door. "We need food. Go to Chuck, tell him I sent you. It's an emergency!" the woman just stood there with her jug looking shocked.

 

"GO!” Screamed Dean, the leader in him taking over the situation. “NOW!" The woman dropped her jug and ran off. Dean returned and waited with Cas.

 

Minutes later chuck arrived carrying a large bowl of soup.

 

"I didn't know how much you needed. What kind of emergency needs food exactly?" Behind Dean, he spotted Cas. "What's wrong with him?"

 

"Thanks, Chuck" said Dean, grabbing the bowl from him. He handed the entire thing to Cas, who protested.

 

“People need this... I can't...”

 

“YOU need this.” He said, coxing the bowl into his hands. He eventually took it graciously. Dean turned to Chuck.

 

“Did you bring a spoon, or s-” But Cas was already slurping directly from the bowl. Slow at first, and then hungrily in gulps. Soon he had downed the entire thing and he sat back with his eyes closed.

 

“Better?” asked Dean.

 

“I think so.” Whispered Cas. “Thank you.”

 

 


End file.
